The Sound of Silence
by maggiesbell
Summary: Maggie knew the moment she heard the "click". Today's the day she dies, and as it turns out, it can be quite lonely when you want to protect the person who means the most. This is a "choose your own ending" fic, one of them includes a major character death, so be mindful of that when reading.
1. Chapter 1

_Click_. The sound, despite all of its disastrous implications, lingered in the air for only a second. How absurd it was, that such a small sound could be synonymous with a death sentence.

The silence that followed was so heavy Maggie feared it might suffocate her. It very well could. unless she gave in to her lungs' demands for air and dared breathe, disturbing the quiet. Ironic how what she needed to live might be the very thing that killed her. Nevertheless, instincts would overtake her body in the end. It was unavoidable. By prolonging the wait, the heaves would only grow more violent. So, she took a leap of faith. With a great amount of prudence, she took a controlled breath, allowing herself to live a little longer.

But she knew.

Regardless of still she kept her body or if she called in the cavalry, this was it. Whether it was in a minute or in hours when her body succumbed to exhaustion, the room would be torn apart the moment her weight shifted. And she would be at the epicenter of destruction. This was it; today was the day she died.

In the whirlwind of emotions that overwhelmed her, between the fear and anger, the regrets and sadness, it was the utter loneliness of her situation that prevailed. As precedented by previous encounters, Dean's creations were merciless. They didn't leave surviours; she'd seen them take bomb technicians and first responders. Good people. It didn't mean the bureau wouldn't exhaust all options to see if she was savable, but their attempts would be futile. In reality, calling for backup would unnecessarily endanger people. She couldn't be responsible for that. So, she had to do this alone, and she needed to get OA out of the building.

"I need backup," she said into her comms, grateful she managed to keep her voice steady. "Dean took off into the forest. Running south."

It was a weak lie. Judging by the trash and weeks old takeaway surrounding her, Dean had abandoned the cabin when he had begun his terror spree. OA theorized he was operating from a hub closer to the city rather than a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Splitting up had felt safe. If they were lucky, they would find something that could pinpoint the next target, but they wouldn't find Dean himself.

Yet, OA didn't question her improbable claim. Not that he had any reason not to, as far as he was aware; he fully trusted her. Always did. He'd never hesitate to have her back, which made lying feel all the more bitter.

She wondered if he'd ever forgive her. If given the choice, he'd want to know. He wouldn't give up on her. He'd hold on to hope, and he would stay with her. Always the loyal one. It could easily prove fatal for him, so she robbed him of that, as well as an opportunity to say goodbye. It might be unkind, but it was a necessary cruelty — she wouldn't let him jeopardize his life for the slim chance of saving hers — but it wouldn't make the pain any less for either of them.

Pain. She sent a prayer to the skies, asking for it to be painless. That it would be over in a millisecond. She found some solace in having the extra reassurance, but it did little to soothe her emotional pain as she grieved the rest of her life. She supposed that it was perhaps too much to ask for the absolval of grief. Grief was ferocious.

She thought she'd made peace with death a long time ago. She was aware of its ever-present presence, looming in the shadows of her job; Jason had been a painful reminder of that. The only resemblance of control she had over it was to make preparations for it. So, she made sure her affairs were always in order, and she had taken the time to write letters to the people she loved and cared for. They were a contingency plan, a way to make up for unsaid goodbyes if she got killed. Knowing important words wouldn't be left unspoken, that a piece of her would remain, brought her comfort whenever sher endangered her life. Yet, with all her preparations, there was still fear and grief. She didn't want to go.

_I want to stay. _She felt a tear run down her cheek. And another. And another. She didn't fight it, surrendering to her grief as tears streamed down her face. Staying quiet proved itself impossible as a sob caught in her throat, causing her to make a small sound.

"Maggie?" There was a tinge of concern to OA's voice. "You alright?"

Hearing his voice made the loneliness all the more apparent. Although she had her priorities clear, there was still a selfish part of her that yearned to tell him the truth. She didn't want to be alone. Company was however not a luxury she could afford.

She cleared her throat. "Where are you?"

There was a beat as he presumably oriented himself. "By the 'trespassers will be shot' sign."

They'd walked past it earlier, a self-made, shabby looking thing at the end of the property line. It was far enough. He wouldn't be harmed, protected by distance. He was safe. In her mind, that was all that mattered.

_Okay, _she thought, _this is it_. Her chance before he grew suspicious, or before her bravery escaped her. This was her final moments. She held back another sob. _This is for the best, _she reminded herself. Nobody else would be hurt. Eventually, everything would be alright. _I got this._

She let out a shaky breath. "OA?"

"Yeah?" The worry was more present in his voice this time. If only he knew.

For the first time since the _click_, she dared lift her gaze. Being able to dictate what the last thing she'd ever see gave her a small resemblance of control over her fate. Anything would surpass a deranged killer's scraps and half-eaten pizzas at this point.

Ultimately, she fixated on the lonely potted plant occupying the window still. And in that moment, she thought it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. She offered the plant a small smile, a sudden wave of calm spreading through her and ridding her of any fear and sadness. A last moment of beauty and acceptance, without pain. Seemed her prayer had worked, after all.

"Maggie?"

She closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Omar."

And then she took a step forward.

**A/N: **Hence the possible character death. Maybe she survives through the miracle of storytelling, or maybe not. Who knows (besides me). I have an ending/continuance planned in my head, but I think I'll rather leave this open so that you can decide for yourself. At least for now.

Thank you for reading. :)


	2. Chapter 2 - ending 1 (character death)

**A/N: Just as a warning, this is the sad ending. There's zero happiness here. Nothing. Just OA being heartbroken and missing his partner (I listened to How to Save a Life on repeat writing this). If that's not for you, no judgement, skip to the next chapter.**

**For the rest of you, I am sorry (for the quality of my writing, dear God you'd think I was still in middle school)**

What he would not give for her to knock on his door right now, revealing it all to be some grand hoax. Some scheme to lure out Dean, or a deep-undercover play. Some twisted prank. _Anything_. Sure, he'd be hurt, but he'd be too happy to care.

He stared at the door for another few minutes, imagining a world where she walked through. In some other life, with some other OA and Maggie, she wouldn't be gone. He wouldn't be forced to move on without her. In some other world, she survived the day with no scars to show for it, and he could just give her a hug and tell her not to pull something like that again.

In this life, however, that wasn't the case. In this world, she was never walking through that door. She had been violently ripped away, leaving nothing behind but broken hearts and letters.

He lowered his gaze to the envelope in his hands, thumb tracing the swirly _For OA _she'd written on it.

Jubal had handed it to him after—

With a shaky breath he closed his eyes, powerless to stop the surge of memories assaulting his mind. _I'm sorry, Omar. _He hadn't even had time to react to her use of "Omar" before an ear-shattering boom filled the air, knocking him off his feet.

He knew what she'd done before he even got off the ground, and oh, what an absolutely devastating realization it had been. Yet, the warnings of his rational mind were drowned out by hope (or maybe it was just denial) and he doubted he'd ever ran as fast as he had just then.

Hope was such a dangerous thing to have. It had clung to his heart, refusing to let go even as he stood on the edge of destruction, ears ringing and eyes staring into a crater that was once a basement.

Hope had made him ignore Isobel's orders over the phone: _"The scene needs to be secured, OA. You have to wait for the paramedics to get there." _

As hell if he would.

In retrospect he realized that her primary concern hadn't been his physical safety. Somehow, she had known already then, when the only coherent things he had said were: _"I need an ambo. The place was rigged, Maggie was inside. I can't find her." _

It was rare he saw Isobel in the field, but she had been there that day. _That day_. He wished he could forget it. That he could bury the memory of how limp her hand had been when he'd finally found her, beneath the remains of a bookcase. He wished he couldn't still feel the silence beneath his fingers when he'd pressed them against her wrist, and then her other wrist, and then against her unnaturally bent neck. _No, no, no. Come on, Maggie. One, two, three. _He'd kept with the CPR until Isobel had touched his shoulder, telling him to let the paramedics take her.

Since then, he hadn't really felt much hope.

God, how angry he had been at Isobel. He didn't even know why. Angry for sending them out there, or for spending so long getting to the cabin, or for prying him away from her. He couldn't recall exactly what he'd told her before Jubal cut him off, but it hadn't been kind.

Then his anger shifted onto Maggie. What had she done? How could she not have told him? He was her partner, for heaven's sake. Her _friend_. He deserved to know. Being angry at the dead rarely brought solace, but he still couldn't let it go, even if her last words were an apology.

By the time of her funeral, he'd realized that most of all, he was angry with himself. He should have known. _Of course _the place was rigged, and her voice had been so strange when she sent him outside. He should've known. _He should've known _.

Work was supposed to help. Though he wasn't allowed anywhere near the bombing, he thought having something — anything — to focus on would be a crutch. Yet, her presence was never as heavy as at the office. She haunted his memories, and he kept thinking he saw her in the corner of his eyes. There would be seconds where he forgot. He'd turn toward her desk out of habit, only for his chest to cave in. Seeing it empty hurt, but not nearly as much as the day he walked in and saw another agent unpacking his stuff on _her _desk.

There was no escape at work. Wherever he walked, he felt strangled by the stares of sympathetic strangers and concerned friends. A hand on the shoulder here, an encouraging word there. _Heroic, _was the word they would use. How _brave _she was, how _heroic _she was. Had he trusted himself to speak, he'd point out how she'd always been that. That just this one time, he wished she hadn't been. He couldn't shake the feeling that she'd still be alive if she had. Jubal had told him the bomb was too sophisticated for anyone to disarm, but he didn't trust that to be true. Those were the words of someone trying to lessen their friend's guilt, not of an ASAC reporting new developments in an investigation.

OA shook his head, and his eyes fell back on the envelope in his hand. The one Jubal had given him after driving him home _that day_. A funeral and a week later, he had yet to open it. Once he did, it was final. She would never put any new words into the world, and he would have to live with that. He had no idea how to.

Still, she had put a lot of care and thought into this. She wanted him to have this. He was still her partner, and if he couldn't save her life, he'd honor her wishes.

So, with a newfound sense of duty, he opened the envelope and carefully pulled out her letter, feeling a sharp stab at his chest before he'd even finished the first line: _Hi, OA. If you're reading this, things aren't great, which probably feels like the world's biggest understatement. _

It did. He closed his eyes, trying to fight off the all-too-familiar burning sensation of unshed tears. He knew this wasn't supposed to be easy, but it shouldn't have to be so _damn _hard to read a letter.

He took a deep breath, and continued reading: _What you're going through right now, is traumatic. Losing someone, especially a partner, is never easy. Even my wise words can't make it any better. _

She was amazing, but he'd have to admit that might be too miraculous for even her to achieve, as evident by the droplets hitting the paper.

_You're probably feeling a lot of things right now. Anger, hurt, guilt. I don't know what happened, but I do know that I'd never blame you. So don't sit around feeling guilty, because it's not on you. I know that's easier said than done, but as a wise man once told me, at some point, you have to let go of all of this guilt. _

Fearful he might rip it apart with how he was shaking, he left the letter next to him, bringing his hand up to cover his eyes. Last thing he wanted was to damage the paper. It was the one thing he still had. An inhuman sound escaped him then, followed by a series of sobs - he hadn't realized he had any left in him.

It took much longer than a moment before he felt ready to pick it back up, hands still shaking: _I also want you to know that it is okay for you to move on. I want you to move on. I know how hard it is, but you deserve to be happy. It's okay to let me go. _

It didn't feel that way.

_It is. _

He almost smiled; of course she knew.

_I felt so alone after Jason. I didn't realize how much I needed a friend in my life until I met you. I always wanted to thank you for that. Being your partner has been among the greatest joys of my life, and I wouldn't trade that for the world. _

At least they could agree on that.

_I also wanted you to know how proud of you I am, always, and that I love you. You are my best friend, OA. _

"You too, Maggie," he whispered.

_Thank you, for everything. And like that brilliant Egyptian philosopher once said, life is for the living. So go live it for the both of us. _

He ran his thumb across where she had signed _Maggie, _wondering how much time she'd spent on this. Her writing was clearer than usual, and there were no crossed out words. It didn't surprise him that she'd wanted to get it right, but he still felt touched by the gesture, and wished he'd done something similar for her.

In the end, he must've read it over a dozen times more before the tiredness overtook him. He carefully folded the letter and put it back into the envelope, only now realizing she had hidden something else inside it. He frowned, pulling out the glossy paper.

It was a picture.

Kristen had taken it after they'd all gone out for dinner after a particularly hard case. He had his arm around Maggie's shoulders, and she was laughing at something he'd said seconds earlier. The memory got a smile out of him. Making her laugh had always been one of his favourite things to do.

Though he was still tired, he reminisced for as long as he managed to keep his eyelids open, reliving that day. They had their good memories, and he wasn't going to let the present taint them. And as the tiredness finally became too much, he traded the photo for a blanket and laid down on his couch. With any luck, his dreams would take him back there, or at least, anywhere but here.

**A/N: Thank you for reading. I appreciate it.**

**I hope the sentimentality wasn't too much. I believe OA and I have different reactions to grief, which made this kind of hard to get "authentic". But hey, at least it made for a decent writing exercise. **

**(Pro tip: you can still read the next part and pretend this is just OA having a bad dream if you want to forget about this)**


	3. Chapter 3 - ending 2 no character death

_**A/N: This is the happier ending. No deaths here. :)**_

_**When I wrote this originally, I wanted to leave it open-ended, so I figured I'd write alternate endings to keep the integrity of that.**_

_"I'm sorry, Omar." _

He only had time to frown before an ear-shattering _boom _filled the air, the ground shaking violently with it and nearly knocking him off his feet. In the second it took him to recover, he'd already put together what had just happened.

It had been an absolutely devastating realization.

Then he ran. Sprinted, really. He reached the cabin before the idea he might never be able to unsee what he'd find could fully occupy his mind. All that mattered right now, was finding her. Everything else, he'd deal with later. He just had to find her.

With all the dust and ash, he almost stumbled into the crater where the basement had once been. From the looks of it, that had been the source of the blast. Half the cabin had caved into it, leaving it a mess of wood boards and books.

He had to get down there, somehow. And he had to be careful not to cause any further damage (or trigger any other surprises). As he stood on the edge, trying to figure out the best route down there, he tried to ignore the thought that if she was down _there_, beneath all _that_, he wouldn't be met with a pretty sight.

The weakest of coughs made him look up beyond the crater. And there, in the midst of chaos, he found her. She stood, shaking slightly with a bloodied hand pressed against her ear, the red contrasting starkly against the gray layer covering her. Flakes of paper still danced through the acrid air around her, slowly making their descent to a ground littered with charred pieces of furniture. She didn't seem to mind any of that, though, blankly staring out into the air.

He made his way around the basement in seconds. "Maggie?"

She didn't react, eyes still transfixed on something unseen to his. Repeating her name, he touched her arm. This time, she inhaled sharply. As still as her eyes had been before, they were now darting across the scene, quickly watering as she took in the mayhem.

"Hey," he gave her arm a squeeze, "_hey_, are you okay? Can you hear me?"

"Y-yeah." She cleared her throat, but didn't lift her gaze. "I can hear you." She lowered her hand into view, drawing her eyebrows together as she inspected it. "Huh."

The blood. "Let me take a look at you, okay?"

He brought his hand to her face, brushing away her hair. A few cuts and scrapes; she might need a few stitches, but nothing fatal.

"Your ears ringing?"

She closed her eyes, leaning slightly into his touch. "Mhm."

"Any pain?"

"I don't know," she said, a slight slur to her speech. "Uhm, dizzy."

"Okay." Adrenaline was one hell of a drug. "Can you look at me?"

She opened her eyes, reluctantly meeting his. A moment later, her face crumpled. All he could think of to do, was to wrap his other hand around her, pulling her into a hug. She sank into his chest, adrenaline radiating off her as exhaustion seeped into her bones. For a minute, they just stood there, and he momentarily forgot about the destruction surrounding them as he closed his eyes, simply focused on her. _Thank God. _

"You should sit down," he murmured, and reluctantly pulled back. "I'm calling you an ambo. You need to get checked out."

He offered her a hand as she sat down, but she still wobbled a little. He tried to ignore the plethora of worries that flooded through his head, from internal bleeding to brain damage. _She's gonna be fine, _he reassured himself. She was in shock, not dying. Right now, he needed to focus on getting her help, not on indulging in his own worries.

So that's what he did.

A moderate concussion. Ruptured eardrums. Three stitches and bruises all over. But she was standing, breathing and thinking. She had been lucky. It seemed Dean hadn't intended to kill, just to destroy any and all evidence they could've used against him. For that, OA was grateful.

"...that being said, I would like for you to come back in 48 hours for a check-up," Doctor Kapoor said. "Can you do that?"

"Yes," she stood up from the chair, grimacing slightly at the movement.

Kapoor glanced between them. "I trust she has someone to take her home?"

"She does," he confirmed.

"My recommendation is that someone stays with her for the next 24 hours," she continued. "Just to be safe."

"Of course." He doubted he'd be able to sleep at home, anyway. "Anything else?"

"Avoid aspirin and ibuprofen, those can increase the risk of bleeding, and we don't want that." She looked at Maggie. "Use Tylenol if you need anything for the pain."

She gave a short nod, triggering a wince. Yeah, she definitely needed some Tylenol (and the week off work Isobel had given her).

"Don't hesitate to contact the hospital if you feel like you're getting worse, or if there's anything worrying you." Kapoor smiled at her. "It's better to be safe than sorry."

"Got it," she replied.

_Better safe than sorry_. He almost chuckled: As if she'd _ever _follow that advice. She had no issues blowing herself up without letting anyone know. He had no doubts she'd die from a brain bleed in silence before calling for help.

"That'll be all, then. Have a good evening, agents," Kapoor said, and left them alone in the exam room.

He handed Maggie back her jacket. Though he'd tried to brush it off, it still had ash and dust clinging to it, a taunting reminder of what could have happened. His ears were still ringing, too. He could still feel the drumming of his heart, even with the knowledge that she was okay. He still couldn't shake the thought that she could have died today. Just like that. And she hadn't even _tried _to prevent it.

"This is gonna be a lot of paperwork, huh?" she said, trying to break the tense silence that had settled over them.

"Maybe you should've thought about that before you tried to get yourself killed." It came out sharper than he'd intended, but right now, he didn't really care. "What the _hell _were you thinking?"

Her face hardened. "That I wasn't risking anyone else's life."

"What, so you just gave up?"

"I didn't give up, OA," she said, firmly crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Oh really?" He scoffed. "Because I don't know what else would explain anything that reckless."

"I was trying to protect you." How was her voice so calm?

"_Protect me _? By lying to me?" He almost wanted to laugh. "How many times do I have to watch you pull a stunt like that?"

"OA–"

No. "Don't," he warned. He didn't need any of her bullshit excuses. "Do you even _care _about how you affect the people who love you, or are you just cold?"

"Remember when you said you would've taken the bullet?" She might've tried to hide it, but there was a slight quiver to her voice. "This isn't any different."

That wasn't fair. Jessica Sanchez' situation _had _been different. With Maggie, there hadn't been any gang members threatening her life, asking her to kill someone. Maggie, she could've asked for help, she _should've _let them help. Instead she had lied to him. She'd tricked him into abandoning her.

But before he had the chance to say any of that, she continued. "I just wanted to minimize the damage."

"Minimize the damage?" Did she hear herself? "You didn't even try to save yourself."

"I did what I thought was right." Her voice was even quieter now, tired.

He scoffed. "That's the problem, isn't it?" Her sense of righteousness. "How am I supposed to trust a partner with a death wish? I can't do my job if I'm always worried about you running around detonating bombs." He couldn't take that fear. "I can't do this anymore, Maggie."

A flicker of guilt — or hurt, he couldn't fully tell — shifted through her eyes. Then she closed them, before they revealed anything else. "I'm not doing this with you right now," she said, bringing her hand up to massage her temples.

"Then when?"

She didn't respond.

"Exactly. We never-" He stopped, realizing. She wasn't being short with him; she was in pain. Of course she was, she wasn't supposed to exert herself. He lowered his voice: "Maggie?"

"I'm not your problem anymore, right?" She opened her eyes again, her glare discouraging him from getting any closer. "I'll just have Kristen drive me home." She turned away, letting her hand fall down. "Goodnight, OA."

She was gone out the room before he'd said anything else.

Two hours later, he found himself standing in her doorway, facing a Maggie who somehow managed to look very intimidating in wet hair and a grey sweater.

"Hey." He ran his thumb across his knuckles. "Can I come in?"

She studied him for a moment, and after a beat too long, she stepped back and welcomed him inside.

"So," he said, "I spoke with Kristen, and she told me you never called her." Though that irritated him, he kept his tone neutral. Last thing he wanted was for her to tell him to leave. "I thought you were having someone stay with you."

"I took a cab instead," she crossed her arms. "It was only a suggestion and I'm an adult."

"Okay." He pressed his lips together. That was the exact opposite point of what he had been trying to make earlier. _Not why I'm here, _he reminded himself, inhaling slowly. "You feeling okay?"

"Yes," she said flatly. "What do you want?"

"To see you."

She scoffed. "What, you just couldn't wait until tomorrow to berate me some more?"

"I'm not here to berate you," even if she was making that rather difficult right now. "It's been a rough day. I wanted to check in on you," partly to make sure she was processing everything, partly because he needed the reassurance she was okay. He'd kept feeling like he was still running through that forest. Besides, he didn't like how they'd left things off. "Make sure you're alright."

She shifted her stance, lowering her shoulders."I thought you were done with me."

"I didn't mean that," not really. "I'm still your partner, Maggie." Of course he was. As if anyone could ever replace her. "I hope," he added, once she didn't respond. She wasn't _that _mad, right?

Her face softened. "You are."

He let out a breath. Good. "Can we sit?" He gestured toward the couch. For a second he feared she might reject the idea, too stubborn to admit that she was tired. Then she uncrossed her arms and sat down, and he sank down next to her. At least she accepted his proximity, even if she didn't meet his eyes. That was a start.

"So, how are you feeling, really?" he asked. "Does your head still hurt?"

"Tylenol helped," she reassured him. She stayed quiet for a moment after, contemplating. "I don't have a death-wish, you know," her voice was softer now, allowing an edge of vulnerability. "When I heard that click, I just…" she shook her head, ridding herself of the thought. "It felt like the best option, you know?"

He had yet to think of any event where the best-case scenario involved her death, but part of him understood where she was coming from: If she'd let him, he'd never leave that room without her.

"I'm supposed to keep people safe, OA," she continued. "Even when I'm scared," she added quietly. "I didn't do any of this to hurt you." She met his gaze. "That's the last thing I want to do."

"I know." His anger, albeit justified, should've waited. He shouldn't have laid it all on her at the hospital, of all places. And he should've chosen different words. "I'm sorry, Maggie. I was just...scared," he admitted, finding that his voice was betraying him. "When I heard the explosion, I-" It was odd, how memories held so much power. He cleared his throat. "I thought you _died _Maggie, and it terrified me."

She clenched her jaw, her eyes dropping to her hands.

"I don't know what I would do if I lost you," he admitted. "You know I love you, right?" He hadn't known the depths of platonic love until he'd met her. "You're my best friend."

That got a smile out of her. "I guess you're mine too."

"Oh you_ guess _," he teased.

"I'm incredibly popular." She looked back up at him. "I mean, it's a tough competition."

He chuckled. "I bet."

"You win, though," she said, bumping her good shoulder into him.

"I'm honored." Truly.

She rested her head on his shoulder then, finally letting the exhaustion get to her. "Thank you."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, careful not to put too much weight on her bruises as he brushed his fingers against her arm. "For what?"

"Caring."

"You make it easy," when she wasn't tempting fate.

"And for the record, I love you too," she murmured. "I'll try to be more careful."

"Thanks." There were never any real guarantees in life, especially in their line of work, but he'd take any reassurance he could get.

They didn't move in the minute or so that passed before she said anything else. "Can you stay? I mean, doctor's orders and all."

He smiled. "Of course."

There was no place he'd rather be.

**A/N: Thanks for reading. I appreciate it a lot. This is my least popular fic, but also my personal favourite, so I figured I'd post this regardless.**

**(Yes this took me a year to post but in my defense a) I was fond of the open-ending and didn't necessarily plan on updating, b) just finished my last year of High School and started uni, and c) this fic can take place at any time, so we'll pretend it works)**


End file.
